


café a dois

by noturno



Series: pais e filhos [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Actor Mark Lee (NCT), Alternate Universe - Paris, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Denial of Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fatherhood, Idiots in Love, Kid Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Playboy Lee Jeno, Single Parents, Slow Burn, Trans Characters, Trans Mark Lee (NCT), Trans Na Jaemin, Trans Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Undisclosed relationships - Freeform, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noturno/pseuds/noturno
Summary: Mark sits down by his side and lowers himself to the ground. The way his shoulder presses to Jeno's reminds him he wants to be tender and merciful for him. His hands can turn into songbirds for all he cares, he'd like them to land in Mark's shoulders every morning. Eventually, all birds must land, and eventually, all longing must result in something. Jeno's used to waiting. He wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer.(Or, the year in which Jeno changes a diaper, learns how to throw a punch, falls in love, gets a tattoo, and meets Mark Lee. Not necessarily in that order.)
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Mark Lee
Series: pais e filhos [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013535
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	café a dois

**Author's Note:**

> **alternate title:** coffee for two
> 
> i've been working on this for the past year, so i hope all the wait is worth it lol. shoutout to bel and aline who heard about this on day one, boni for all the enthusiasm, and marianjo for being an angel. pun intended. and for the general public, baby fic is finally here!!!!! wooooooooooo
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BylOwLQvm1NCOVjjbegLc?si=6kR2kIJlQySXG3dvaPo88w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which genius ideas occur, important meetings take place, and a cute child appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiii!!! oh my god i can't believe we're here... i don't even know what to say. enjoy!!!!!!!!

_"Sometimes, kids have to find their own way to show their parents the way."_

— CARL GRIMES, The Walking Dead. Season 8, episode 6.

.

"So, your dad is still pissed off?" Donghyuck asks. "What's he gonna do, send you back to Seoul, so you’ll stay with us? Bet you'd like that. I would.”

Jeno sighs as he steals some of the icing on the cake with his pointer finger, drawing a big J right on top of it so that his mother will see. He giggles at his own childish attempt.

"He's _not_ my father, thank you. And I think he'd rather do that, yes, but they think I'd just cause more trouble away. You know, as if I'm a child and still mad my mom married a piece of shit," he licks the buttercream off his finger as his mother _stares_ at him from across the room, _I know what you just did, little man_ look on her face. He’s seen that too many times already. "I'm a grown up now, you know?” Donghyuck scoffs. “I prefer causing trouble where he can see it."

"Attaboy!" Donghyuck exclaims. He's been piling up profiteroles of different flavors in his plate, all the providers at the wedding reception struggling to keep up with how he's hoarding all the sweets. Jeno is pretty sure he's stoned, but he's not going to point it out. He wishes he was, too, but there hasn’t been any time for that recently. "But since we're talking, _I_ wouldn't mind having you around. You could visit now that all of this—" he motions to the commotion around them, gowns twirling on the dance floor and cheesy wedding songs playing in the background. "—is over. I miss walking around Itaewon with my best friend."

When a waiter walks by with more champagne in a tray, Jeno collects one for himself and chugs it down with no ceremony. "Me too. Sometimes I dream of you rushing to roll as many joints as you can before the winged version of your mother ascends from hell to haunt us. She’s harsh, but I guess I do love that woman.”

Donghyuck lets out a high pitched laugh. Somewhere in the room a crystal glass is broken, judging by the commotion, and Jeno twirls in his heels to take a look. It's honestly such a pity that Doyoung is already too drunk to be pissed off at it — everything was funnier at the beginning of the reception when he made Jeno promise he wouldn't cause a scene on purpose, as it was supposed to be a joyful day.

He would _never_ cause a scene on purpose at his brother's wedding, not when everything in their lives had been revolving around it for the past year. Everything is planned to the minimal detail — this castle in Italy, the chantilly flowers on top of the cake, the fact that Jeno's gown has one single rose embroidered over his chest. No, he wouldn't cause a scene on purpose. Doesn't mean he's not going to have fun seeing all of these people embarrass themselves, though, and maybe indulge them to do so a little. He knocks his hips against Donghyuck's, and points with his chin to where their older siblings are chatting with both their ties crooked, an horror under normal circumstances.

"You know, I'm truly excited for your brother's wedding. The stepnightmare said I can't go if I don't prove myself to be — what were his words? — oh, _responsible and honorable_ , just like a Kim is supposed to be. I don’t think he realizes I am not his son. I’m not Doyoung, as much as he wishes I was."

"Oh?" Donghyuck raises eyebrows at him as he pops an entire profiterole into his mouth. " _That's_ your punishment? Not attending Taeyong's wedding? I thought it would be something more radical. TY’s wedding is going to be exactly like this, if not more boring.”

He gets another glass of champagne. "Not exactly. He was going for something more like house arrest so I stopped "targeting" Doyoung's campaign or whatever it is that he said. I'm surprised I was on the guest list today."

"Well, he's your _brother_. Of course you'd be."

"Doyoung is not very fond of me either."

"Of _course_ he is," Donghyuck insists, sounding very serious for someone with Nutella on his chin. Jeno rolls his eyes as he licks his own thumb and wipes him clean. "Why, thanks. Listen, all I'm saying is that Doyoung is crazy for you. I remember you two were very close when we were kids, I can't believe you're saying that. He’s _crazy_ for you, I’m telling you.”

Jeno shrugs, looking down at his drink. He supposes Doyoung _was_ nicer to him before he began his life-long plan of running for office, but that's such a distant memory for him that he doubts it's real. The more someone recalls a memory, the less accurate it is. People will always try to find a truth that suits them at the moment.

"Whatever," he says eloquently. "I haven't really talked to him about anything since I was ten or something. Not that a child had much to say to him, anyway.”

"Well, regardless of that—" Donghyuck puts his plate down and cleans his hands on the back of his trousers. A couple of good-looking girls, probably daughters of their parents' acquaintances, are shyly looking at them from across the room and Donghyuck is trying to fix whatever imperfection he might have noticed on his perfectly tousled hair, using the camera of his iPhone as a mirror. "You better go to _my_ brother's wedding. I won't have anyone else to talk to if you don't, and I won't ever forgive you for that."

One of the girls, the one in a beautiful indigo blue dress, starts walking in their direction, so Donghyuck starts moving as well. The other one eyes Jeno with curiosity and he doesn't know how to signal that he is, in fact, very gay, simply the gayest that ever existed, so he calls for Donghyuck: "I doubt that. You have a lot of friends and you never get tired of saying that."

"Nonsense," he winks at Jeno before turning around completely. "You're my _bestest_ friend, I'd choose you over anyone else. Save a glass for when I come back!"

.

Back at the beginning, it's Spring, flowers all over, and Jeno is born in Paris, France as the only child of a question mark marriage — he doesn’t know his father’s name or what he does for a living, just that his mother and him had been living in the city of love for over a year before, well, before Jeno happened. And he doesn’t know what happened to the guy, probably never will, he's learned at a very young age that women like his mother can keep a secret like fucking priests if they want to, especially if it's for their own good.

Sometimes he dreams that his father was an asshole, and that she buried him in their yard and got away with it. Gone Girl style. He'd like a movie-worthy story for a movie-worthy woman like his mother to make up for his childhood, which is—

A question mark, as well. A question mark child for a question mark mother. He recalls things like those movies you watched once, as a kid, and you've never heard of them again — you don't know the name, you don't even remember the plot, really, but some bits and pieces of it are glued to your brain like chewing gum. They moved as soon as he could travel by plane — his mother loved Paris, but she went back home to her mother. It comes back to the mothers, he thinks. Everything in the world comes back to the mothers. They left their apartment in the 3rd arrondissement and walked straight into his grandmother’s loving arms, and she painted the walls of his childhood room herself, blue with white clouds. She talked to him in Korean, his mother spoke to him in French, he got kids confused at daycare. His mother would always come get him at the end of the day and he’d press his nose to every bakery’s window, looking at all those sweets, and say: _maman, je voudrais un pain au chocolat, juseyo._ She could never say no and she never gave him shit for mixing it all up.

It was good when it was just the three of them. His mother, him, and his grandmother. And it's a good thing he had Donghyuck while growing up, also. And Taeyong, for that matter, and the way he'd take them to parks and would watch over them as they played. While Jeno doesn't remember much of his childhood, he's glad that the universe has made Donghyuck family, a cousin his age that was more of a brother than anything. He misses him constantly now, which brings us back to the way the story proceeds like you've ripped an entire chapter from the book:

According to Facebook, his mother got engaged when he was seven, married when he was nine. Somewhere around that his grandmother passed away, but that’s not written down anywhere, he just remembers it. He was the ring bearer at the wedding, there are pictures in at least five different magazines that his mother still has plastified somewhere in the house. He thinks it happened in the French countryside. And his stepfather traveled a lot, he's been told, they didn't need to leave for three more years. Again, magazines. Going back to Paris was documented in articles here and there — it's what you get. Movie star, ambassador, finally moving in together and merging families. Jeno's room is right across the corridor from that of a stepbrother that is twelve years older than him and helps him out with math homework even if he has college work himself. Where Jeno is lanky, awkward and too shy for his own good, Doyoung is already every inch of the man he was raised to be, but he still finds some time to make animal shaped omelettes for Jeno. They made it work, most of the time.

Essentially, the house is good despite not being home, Doyoung helps him keep his Korean top notch, and it takes four years for his stepfather to ask if Jeno is ever going to call him "dad", and he says no. Everything that happened after that is, well—

"Insolent," he repeats, compulsively folding the linen napkin. It's something Doyoung does when he's nervous, too. "In-so-lent. That's what you are. Completely uncivil. I thought you'd be easier to talk to after a few weeks, but I realized it was a foolish mistake of mine."

To which Jeno stabs his prime rib steak with a knife with too much force, the sauce flying from his plate straight to the white button-down shirt Doyoung's wearing. He's been watching with a neutral expression, and he calmly cleans himself with a napkin.

"No, go on, keep calling me names," Jeno replies with a snicker. His mother raised him to be an angel, but if his stepfather believes he’s a hellspawn, he might as well just go all the way. "I'm not sorry I hurt your friends' feelings, did you know that? They've been hurting mine for longer."

"People can have different opinions. Not everyone in the world is out there to personally target you, Jeno."

"Being a—" he takes a deep breath. Across the table, Doyoung raises his eyebrows at him in an attempt to have him continue — Jeno wishes _he_ would start talking, but he knows he's just building a speech up in that head of his. "Being LGBTQ isn't an _opinion_. It's people's lives we're talking about, it's my life we're talking about. And being homophobic isn't an opinion, either, it's just being a disgusting piece of shit. All your friends exceed at that, don’t they?"

His stepfather scoffs. Doyoung points at Jeno with his fork. "He's right, dad. It's a rather retrograde way to think."

Not different from how it's been for years, Jeno's stepfather always listens to his son. If there's anything Jeno hates about Seongho Kim that he would like to pinpoint, it's his uncanny ability to have a double standard regarding absolutely everything, but especially when it comes to Jeno.

"I suppose—," he says, grabbing his glass of wine with one slender hand, twirling the liquid a bit before bringing the glass to his lips. "They can come off as rude, sometimes. But it doesn't mean you get to say things like that, Jeno. It’s not good for any of our images."

Rude. _Rude!_ Jeno scoffs, kicking an asparagus to the borders of his plate with the tip of his knife. He doesn't feel like eating this crap anymore. "I can't believe I'm repeating this, but I didn't know someone was recording me. Jaemin and I were having fun, something you should try some day because you're so—" he groans when Doyoung sends him a pleading look. "Doyoung, just your greens and leave me alone. Christ."

His stepfather lets out a long sigh. "You used to be such a sweet kid. Remember that, Doyoung? He wasn't like this. He would never raise his voice at anyone, less alone you and I."

Jeno rolls his eyes and Doyoung clears his throat. He starts folding his napkin, too. Jeno hates that shared habit of them. He looks up at him. "While I do not particularly enjoy you speaking to me like that—" Doyoung turns to his father. "I think Jeno is more than allowed to be mad. You must admit that Fontaine and Edouard, not to mention others, have been called out before for their homophobic behavior, and that doesn't resonate well on a big portion of the population. Times have changed. We have to stand up for what we believe in, and Jeno is doing just that. In his own way, of course.”

Jeno thanks him with a nod, and says: "I'll say it for one last time, then: I didn't know I was being recorded, I haven't changed my mindset, I won't be apologising to your condescending long time friends. I'll give you permission to tell them I was piss-off drunk, though, if it makes you feel better. But, to me, they can eat shit."

His stepfather sighs loudly as Doyoung chuckles under his breath. It's been, precisely, a month since someone had uploaded an Instagram story of Jeno drunkly leaning against the shoulder of his best friend from college and saying how tired he is of having to attend dinners with his family if it means he'll have to see "the bunch of old, ugly homophobes that run the Assemblée Nationale", and then some less pleasing things to hear. Multiple articles have been written since then, some of them very, very mean, and Doyoung's official Twitter account has been unfollowed by at least ten congressmen who took it way too personally not to be homophobes themselves.

What a fucking pity, isn’t it? To Jeno they could simply drop dead. He takes one last bite of steak before setting his napkin on the table, watching as his stepfather massages his temples slowly.

"Alright, alright, I understand. It's just that you have to be careful with the things you say in public, Jeno, because people pay attention to what you do. It's all I'm asking of you. You're free to do, say and.. Go out—" he makes a face. Jeno snorts. "—with whoever you want, we just don't want another incident like that happening, do you understand that? You _are_ a public figure after all. Though if you found yourself a girlfriend—”

“He’s gay,” Doyoung intervenes, at the same time that Jeno exclaims: “I’m a _huge_ homo,” and they both stare at each other trying not to laugh.

Jeno’s eyes go from his brother’s face to the empty chair by his side. He wishes, for once, that timezones weren't such a pain. He could call his mother. They wouldn't talk about this in particular, but they would talk about anything else, and it'd be better than any conversation he could ever have with his stepfather.

"Don't worry, I'll be off your hair soon," he declares after a while. "If only I could stay at Donghyuck's for some time. I could finish the term there, maybe spend Christmas, too. Hell, I could live there. Wouldn’t you like that?”

He scoffs: "You want me to send you to Seoul after all this, like some sort of reward for your behavior? Your mother already said she wants you _here_."

Jeno rolls his eyes. It's easy for her to say that — _she's_ the one who gets to work far away from this hellhole, sending him postcards in an old fashioned way, reminding him he can't leave if he tried. And he has tried; the last time Jeno tried to run away, one of the security guys that accompanies Doyoung dragged him from the airplane by his armpits like he was a child.

"Well, then," he gets up. Out of courtesy, Doyoung gets up as well, except his chair doesn't make an awful dragging sound like Jeno does because he’s always been gentler. "If you need me, which I hope you don't, I'll be in my jail cell. Have a good night."

.

The only Korean friend from college that Jeno has is a photography major with bright pink hair that's called Jaemin, and it feels they've known each other their entire lives, especially when Jeno comes home from one of the three classes he has weekly and finds the latter napping in his bed.

"Good morning," he says, letting his bag fall on top of the blob that is Jaemin, safely tucked under the covers, and watches as they open their eyes suspiciously like a cat. "Would you like breakfast in bed, Your Highness?"

To which Jaemin replies, yawning as they kick the bag off them and onto the floor: "You take too long to get home, and they let me in. I did what I had to do."

Jeno snorts. He'd like to drive to class every day, but his mother still got his car keys ever since he tried running away by plane. It’s been almost a year. "Taking the bus is great, it clears your mind. You should try public transportation sometime."

Grimacing, Jaemin sits up. "So, when are you leaving house arrest? Did he say something?"

Shrugging, Jeno lets himself fall to the chair by his desk, resting one leg on his knee. "Nah, he never talks to me in particular. But we had dinner, — him, Doie and I —, a week ago and it was disastrous. Doyoung knocked on my door before leaving and tried to give me a pep talk," the memory itself is so embarrassing for Jeno that he physically cringes. "He said that he supports me on the path to making his dad's life a nightmare if that's what makes me happy, but also that I don't need to be rebellious all the time. I can just "relax". Be a twenty-one year old. He was so awkward that it actually made me feel a little bit better, actually."

Jaemin lets out a laugh as they search for their phone under the pillow to check the time. "Doyoung being Doyoung. Although, if I was the child of a notorious liberal who cares too much about what homophobes think, I'd simply change my name and leave the country. RIP to him but I'm different."

"Eh, Doyoung isn't bad, he actually stood up for me," Jeno rubs at his cheek lazily. "Whatever, what is done is done. Why did you come here, anyway? I could have met you anywhere else." _Anywhere else is better than here._

Jaemin flashes him a devious grin. They kick the covers off themselves only to reveal they are, unsurprisingly, wearing Jeno's pyjama pants. "So, you probably ate already, but I'm having lunch with some guys from that theatre company I sometimes work with. Wanna tag along?"

"A _work_ thing, so I can be your secretary? No, thank you. I hate taking notes.”

Sighing, Jaemin takes off the sweatpants without ceremony and starts looking for their jeans. Jeno conveniently looks the other way, because he's had enough of Jaemin's impromptu undressing habit over the years. "It's not a work thing— well, it is a little, but we're all friends. Come with me! I'm trying to woo one of them and need back-up."

Nodding, Jeno stares at his bag on the floor, thinking of the work he needs to get done for college. He gets up to look for a better looking shirt in the closet.

.

The work thing is, essentially, Jeno watching as Jaemin tries really hard to pretend they're not playing footsie under the table with a tall, tanned dude with many piercings in his ears named Lucas for forty two minutes, and eating too many salted peanuts for his own good as they drink beer, until Lucas' friend arrives and he's rendered speechless rather than choosing to be silent.

"I am deeply sorry, they held me back at the theatre. Hi, Lu, hi, Jaem—" says the man sliding into their booth, detangling himself from a tote bag. High cheekbones, doe eyes, neatly cut hair, _Jesus—_ When he looks up and finds Jeno sitting across from him, he extends a hand. "Hello, you. I'm Mark."

Jeno takes it. His skin is warm and his handshake is firm, and Jeno says his own name out loud but the sound doesn't reach his ears. Mark smiles politely at him, and then brightly at Jaemin, and he soon engages in a conversation while Jeno still has his hand more or less in the same position, hanging in the air awkwardly.

He retrieves it, mortified. Lucas asks him if he wants another beer and he nods robotically. On God. _On God._ Mark shrugs off his light flannel and fixes the rolled sleeves of his black shirt, mindlessly scratches over the tattoos in his biceps.

Jeno swallows dry. He's overheating despite the AC. Jeno smiles at Jaemin with too much enthusiasm when they nudge him on the ribs and ask if he really doesn't want to eat, and he shakes his head negatively. Jaemin narrows their eyes suspiciously but gets distracted by something Lucas says, and Jeno sighs in relief.

"Anyway, Jaemin," Mark says at some point, when they've already ordered pizza and Jaemin's cheeks are rosy from the alcohol. "Lucas and I, we wanted you to take some pictures of the theatre for our website. Last year was great, we really wanted you again."

Jaemin claps their hands in excitement. "I promised I won't get too distracted by that cat you keep around."

They all laugh — Jeno does, too. He has no idea what they're talking about, but he finds it very difficult not to follow when Mark starts laughing.

This is getting dangerous. When Mark looks at him, Jeno takes a sip of beer that goes down the wrong pipe and he has to pretend not to feel like he'll choke to death otherwise his sexy guy attitude will go down the drain.

"Sooooooo, Jeno," Lucas turns to him. Jeno can tell he's been trying to make an impression on him, being designated best friend — it's cute, but it's not like Jeno has a saying in which people Jaemin dates, they always do whatever they want. "Jaemin told me your folks are a bit difficult. Mine are, too, but they don’t live here."

"Oh, did they?" Jeno asks as his best friend flashes him an embarrassed smile. "Well, I assure you that your parents are angels next to my stepfather."

"Is that so? What is he like?"

Jeno hums. He can never lose an opportunity to complain. "He really is just that kind of guy who stands for nothing, you know? He's all about keeping an image. He cares more about his picture looking good in a magazine than what he can do, you know, for the country."

This time, Mark narrows his eyes at him. "Speaking of magazines, why do I feel like I know _you_ from somewhere else?"

Jaemin chuckles under their breath as they pull their phone out of the pocket of their jeans. Jeno knows what's coming, so he just shrugs, and watches as Jaemin opens one of the fifteen different pictures they took of the tabloid covers that came out as soon as the _thing_ happened, — safely kept in a group chat named _ALL THE TIMES JENO HATED BEING A PUBLIC FIGURE_ —, and shoves it in the other's face.

"Oh— so you're the nation's troublemaker," Mark hands the phone back. "Now I get why you detest your stepfather so much. I'd do, too, if my mother had married Kim Seongho. He's—"

He grimaces. Jeno lets out a laugh: "I know, right? Imagine _living_ with the guy."

"Oh, my God," Lucas leans over the table to take a look. "My mom told me about this, she's subscribed to that magazine. I knew you looked familiar, but this isn't a very flattering picture. Your nose looks weird. But, hey, did you _really_ punch the prime minister on the face?"

Jaemin intervenes: "What? No! Jeno doesn't know how to throw a punch. That's a tabloid, baby, they're all about sensationalism. But, anyway, you can see that family dinners aren't very pleasing for him right now."

"Well, they never were pleasing in the first place," Jeno shrugs, and he timidly reaches for a slice of pizza despite not being that hungry himself. "I'm taking suggestions of future scandalous stunts to shock a couple of boomers. Preferably one that doesn't include people writing articles on how the gays are ruining the country and using me as an example."

"Oh, I'd be your boyfriend for a night to piss off your folks," Mark says all of a sudden. At first, Jeno doesn't laugh, but when Jaemin lets out a screech, he even giggles. Mark takes a sip of his beer and adds: "I can put on a show, leave them a little traumatized. They wouldn't bother you again."

Jeno raises one eyebrow at him. "It is not an easy job to scare my family. They're well-trained nightmares."

"You'll find out I can be very convincing when I want to. So, what do you say, dinner on Friday, or should I wait for the next full moon when your stepfather is around?"

This time, Jaemin has a fit of laughter, and it doesn't take long for everyone else to follow. Jeno is so enamored in this very moment that he feels _stupid_.

"So!" Jaemin claps their hands as they calm down. "Who's going to get a look at desserts with me, huh? Lucas?"

Jeno watches as the other two stumble out of the restaurant and turns to Mark, who's been typing on his phone. Alright, alright. This is the chance. Jeno fixes his hair, pinches his own cheeks so they’ll get rosy, and when Mark pockets his phone, he bats his eyelashes:

"You should give me your number, just in case I need a fake boyfriend for a night," and then he clears his throat. "Although I wouldn't mind a real thing if you're up for it as well."

Mark studies his face for a while with an unreadable expression, and then releases a soft laugh, looking away. "Ah, I'm sorry. You're really cute, but I already have a real thing back home. Currently not looking for another."

"Oh, right," Jeno feels his ears get hot. His eyes search for a ring on Mark's hand but there aren't any, it's alright, he figures it's not _mandatory_. "Well, _I'm_ sorry, I didn't know you were married… ?"

Mark frowns, looking at him once more. "I'm not— ah, Jeno," he laughs. "It's not that. I'm not taken, but I do have a kid. So I don't exactly do the dating thing, you know?"

Jeno nods, and then he realizes what Mark just said. A kid. A child. He has a child. "Oh, right," he repeats eloquently. _"Wow._ I mean— that was stupid, I'm sorry. That's great, congratulations. Oh, hey, they're back! Hi!"

As Jaemin and Lucas slide back into the booth, talking about sweets, Jeno takes that as a cue to pretend he's just got a text, and spends an awfully long time writing down the lyrics for Heize's last single in his notes app just so that he won't have to look up. His ears are _burning,_ he's never been so embarrassed.

 _A kid._ He looks up at Mark once more, watching the way his nose scrunches up as he laughs at whatever Jaemin just said. He can't be that old. No, it's alright. Some people have kids earlier in life. Some people were teen parents. He's not about to pry on anyone's life but— a kid. Wow.

It's alright, it's good, it's fine. If anything, Jeno is upset that he got turned down. If anything, Jeno is upset that Jaemin didn't tell him they've got a hot friend, and that said hot friend is a whole dad. That's it. Jaemin's fault. When Jeno is at the entrance paying for his consumption, he tries to get Jaemin to look at him but they're just so busy flirting, they would 't ever notice.

"Ah, those two," Mark comments. He's got the flannel on again, the hems of his jeans are cuffed at the ankles, his shirt is tucked in — he doesn't look like a dad, but he’s a hot one. Would Jeno even know, though? How to be a dad 101? He tries to make himself stop thinking about it. No wonder why Jaemin hangs out in the theatre in the first place. Too many hot guys around.

Jeno nods, chuckling. "So, um, you— you're a theatre guy."

Mark raises his eyebrows. His eyes are so big and so dark, Jeno swears to God, you could fall right inside them. "Oh, I am," he laughs. "Family business, my mom and I. We both used to act, but she’s working on the administrative part of it now."

“What about you?”

“I act every once in a while.”

"That's cool. My mom's an actress, too."

Mark flashes him a teasing grin. "I know, I've seen plenty of her movies. You know who you got the eyes from, right? Wouldn’t even need a DNA test for that."

Oh. Jeno can't possibly hide his blushing, so he laughs it out and hopes that Jaemin will come to the rescue soon, because Mark might be like this with everyone and have no intentions of flirting, but Jeno will think of this for a _week_. He pities himself.

He's almost, _almost_ saying something that most probably will be embarrassing when Lucas steps away from the cashier and squeezes Jeno's shoulder. "Alright, so, we have to go back to work. So nice meeting you! Drop by the theatre anytime, alright? We’ve got coffee and good stories to tell."

He smiles: "It was nice meeting you, too. And I sure will."

"Oh, for _sure,"_ Jaemin declares as they throw their arms around Mark's neck, engulfing him in a tight hug. "See you around, boss!"

They part ways shortly. When Jaemin links their arms as they walk back to his car, Jeno lets out a long sigh and declares: "Holy shit, he's the hottest man I have ever seen in my entire life. What the fuck, Jaemin? A guy could've used a warning. Or five of them.”

"What, who?" they ask, furrowing their eyebrows. "Lucas? No way, I mean, duh, but he's _mine—_ wait... Mark?!" they laugh. "Ah, is this why you looked on the verge of creaming your pants the entire time? I should've realized!"

Jeno shakes his head, mortified. "I wasn’t looking like that. Tell me I _wasn’t_ , shut up. I simply wasn't prepared to meet the man of my dreams and see him slip right through my fingers, alright? It’s too much of an emotional rollercoaster for me.”

Raising their eyebrows, Jaemin reaches for the keys in their back pocket. "My, my. Elaborate on that?"

He shakes his head negatively. It's useless to mope, he's been turned down already and he's not the kind of asshole who keeps pushing, but Jeno _wishes_ from the bottom of his heart that Mark would give him a chance. "Nah, I'll get over it," he announces, sliding into the passenger seat. Jaemin's car smells very faintly of weed as always, and although this time they've had the decency to hang an air freshener on the rearview, Jeno still opens the window a little bit. "I just wanted to get that off my chest. _So. Hot._ It's insane. No, not insane, just a bit depressing, actually."

Jaemin giggles as they start the car, just like a middle schooler as if they've just been told who Jeno is planning to confess through a perfumed letter. "What, did Mark turn you down or something?" they joke, and when Jeno stares, they hum. "I see. Well, don't take it personally. From what I heard, he doesn't do the dating thing, that's why I thought it was so funny when he said that thing about pretending to be your boyfriend. He’s, like, the dictionary definition of a full time dad.”

Nodding, Jeno starts poking at the buttons in the car's console in search of the bluetooth, so that he can connect his phone. Judging by the time, they'll have at least thirty minutes of traffic before he gets home once again, so he'll make use of that.

"Whatever," he concludes, eloquently. "Plenty of fish in the sea, right?"

Jaemin mutters something that sounds like _not like Mark, no,_ but Jeno ignores it for his own good. He successfully pairs his phone with the car and proceeds to blast Doja Cat through the speakers. Jaemin hollers. All is good.

.

So Jeno is not thinking about it, but maybe he is a little bit.

That's the thing, though. That's the thing about it. The more he tries to make himself not think about it, the more he does think about it. So, essentially, he's just allowing himself to be thrown into a whirlwind of very compromising thoughts when he could just suck it up, be a grown up, focus on his college work for once. Jeno groans into his hands, leaning away from his model.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Eloise asks him. Jeno likes her a lot. She’s a couple years older than him, and has very tiny hands which allows her to build the nicest models without making a mess like Jeno himself, for example, although he's gotten better over the years. She’s also got such cool hair, shaved on the sides. "We can take a break if you want."

They can't, which is why Beau sports a worried look on his face. They have to hand in this model in three days and they're not even close to finishing it, so Jeno shakes his head as he takes one more look at the mockup plan and goes back to work. "I'm fine," he says, gesturing for the glue, and Beau hands it to him without a word. "Just thinking about stuff."

"Dangerous thing," Beau jokes, and Jeno sends him a glare, although it's effectless. Beau is an angel and he can never be touched by anything. "Listen, let's just finish this tower and the square, and we can all get coffee. How does that sound?"

Terrible. If he's got nothing to do, Jeno is just going to think about Mark Lee. "Perfect," he lies through his teeth. "Although I think we can even wrap it all up today so we won't have to work on the weekend, huh?"

When the two of them agree, he sighs in relief. If he focuses on getting a nice grade so that his professor won't look at him with absolute pity as it's been like in the past weeks, there'll be no time left to think about hot theatre dads. And if he does get a nice grade, Jeno swears he'll buy all the brazilian coffee in the world for Beau and L’Occitane hand cream for Eloise.

He rubs his own fingers together. Maybe _he_ needs some hand cream. _Mark had really nice hands,_ Jeno thinks to himself as he glues two slats together. Not that small but not that big either, and soft looking. Must be nice holding them. Boyish but delicate fingers. Must be nice putting them to his mou—

Brought back to Earth by a faint crack, Jeno stares at the broken slat in his hands. "Just found out these are really delicate, guys," he mutters, and doesn't complain when Beau throws an eraser on his head.

Way to go, Jeno, way to go.

.

"You know what," Jaemin says as they struggle to cut open a box with a pair of pink, glittery scissors, like the ones children use. They've been at it for a while now. "I think you should actually do the thing."

Looking up from the IKEA assembly kit that is supposed to turn into a desk at some point, Jeno asks: "Huh, what thing?"

"The dinner thing!"

He frowns. "What are you on about?"

"Oh, my God," Jaemin wipes off the sweat on their forehead with the back of their hand dramatically, turning to look at him like Jeno has suddenly grown two heads. "The Mark thing, stupid. You should ask him to be your boyfriend for a night. It'd be the funniest thing."

Jeno scoffs, going back to the endless search for screws because even if Jaemin swears they've bought enough, it doesn't seem like it. When he agreed on helping them move out of their mother's home and into a (very nice) loft downtown, Jeno imagined it more like supervising the assembly crew and less like being the one to do the work.

But he'll give Jaemin that. The place is big, has a lot of natural light, Jeno can't wait to sleep over in the future.

"It was only a joke, Jaemin," he says after a while. Screws successfully found, the desk slowly falling into place. "No one pretends to be people's boyfriends. That's too much of a Netflix movie to be real."

Jaemin scrunches a ball of tape in their hand and throws it on Jeno's head — they've got excellent aim —, singsonging: "But you've thought about it..."

Well. He's not going to lie. Even if it's been weeks since the last time he's fought with his stepfather — a record, for him, but it's not like Jeno is keeping count —, he's actually dreamed of bringing Mark home only for him to passive-aggressively argue with Seongho about (this is the part where Jeno knew it was a dream) pasta alla carbonara being made of parmigiano or pecorino (why would Jeno even dream about this? He doesn't like carbonara enough to care about it) until he tragically had a stroke and— well. Jeno woke up laughing, and when he fell asleep once more, he dreamed of Mark being his boyfriend for real, the two of them aggressively making out in Place des Vosges in front of scandalized grandmothers.

And then he moped the entire day after that. Jeno sighs. "I admit it'd be really funny. But he'd have to come up with something really shocking to meet my family's standards.”

Jaemin lets out a giggle as they leave their spot on the floor, box of all of their photography stuff forgotten, and crawls all the way to Jeno's side, immediately pulling their phone out of the pocket of their hoodie. "In that case, I gladly announce that Mark wouldn't really have to fake much," they say, typing something on the screen.

"Huh? Why? What's up with him?"

"Well, aside from being a Leo like me, which can only mean good things—" Jeno snorts, and Jaemin nudges him on the ribs with too much force with an elbow. "I mean, listen, Mark is seriously a _cool_ person. He's the best dad I know, he's funny, he's out of this world smart..."

Jaemin turns the screen to him and smiles as they begin swiping down an Instagram feed. While most of the pictures depict a — very cute, Jeno will give him that — toddler, and there are a lot of pictures of the theatre company, there are also some pictures of Mark. Him with his friends on a pub that Jeno likes on Les Marais; him with his kid at the beach in Provence; some pictures in which he's on stage, with funny clothes or maybe just a black collant; him with an older woman that Jeno doesn't recognize; some really old ones with those weird Instagram filters.

In a sense, Jeno feels like he's intruding something as he looks at the pictures — Mark really looks like the kind of person to enjoy registering the little things in life, things that make him happy and that make him who he is, and Jeno fights the urge to go back to the IKEA desk because it's like Jaemin is showing him a diary, it feels too personal. He says: "Jaem, I don't see the point of all this,"

"The point is," Jaemin insists. "Even though Mark is an excellent actor, he doesn't need his acting skills to disarm your stepfather on an argument. One family dinner, maybe two, and you'll be hearing about it for the rest of the year because that's just who Mark is, you just have to let him loose."

Jeno raises his eyebrows. "How do you know that, though?"

Giggling, Jaemin adjusts themselves on the floor, sitting cross legged, and clicks on another picture, shoving the phone on Jeno's face. This time, it's Mark, Lucas and another person he doesn't know, they all have their firsts up and are holding various signs in front of what Jeno recognizes to be the National Assembly. Universal healthcare, free higher education, trans rights are human rights, all that. He takes the phone from Jaemin's hand and swipes left to see more pictures.

"Dude's committed to the cause, and I've seen him mad before. Bet old Seongho Kim would have a seizure if you brought him home and accidentally brought up tax reform during a conversation, because that's when Mark gets passionate."

Jeno feels a grin starting to form on his lips. "That seems more like it. You think he's willing, for real? I kind of embarrassed myself in front of him that day, though."

Jaemin scratches their chin. "Mark would never miss an opportunity to piss off rich people. _Never._ What sounded like a joke to you, sounded like business to me. You should follow him and maybe send a direct message, hm?"

Nodding, Jeno hands them the phone back, not without taking one last look at Mark's feed. He's— Jeno's not going to lie. He's hot, he's funny, he looks like the kind of person that has shit figured out. It wouldn't be awful to have him as fake arm candy. That, _and_ piss of his family in the process?

Jeno really, really wishes for this to work out. Since he's still quite embarrassed, he opens Instagram on his own phone and searches for the theatre's instagram account instead, so he can look up any contact info.

.

Jeno's never been on the backstage of a theatre before.

He must have once, possibly, with his mother when he was a child, but wouldn't remember it anyway. He's simply awful with these things. He leans awkwardly against the wall as a bunch of actors walk past him talking about today's skits, all of them so different from each other and wearing funny, colorful clothes, and takes another sip of the coffee he got by the bar at the entrance.

Everything is just so… Full of life. Full of passion, too, which for Jeno is just another word for life. Must be why he feels like he's running on autopilot instead of living most days — he sighs. Someone taps him on the shoulder.

"Hello, you," Mark greets him, an amused smile on his lips. "Got lost on the way to the photoshoot or something?"

"I'm not going— oh," Jeno looks down at himself. He _knew_ he was overdressed for this, he's never trusting Jaemin again. His cheeks burn. "Well, hi. I found Lucas by the entrance and he let me in, I wanted to talk to you," then, adds: "If you're not busy, of course."

"I have about twenty minutes before I can call myself truly busy. Want another coffee?"

Jeno nods. He follows Mark back to the bar and they sit by one of the couches shoved under a really big window — Jeno figures this must have been a really nice house to have lived in the past, but it is overall a nice place to hang out. Lots of plants. Good coffee. Mark Lee. The cultural aspect of it all. Jeno will definitely start going to the theatre more from now on. He takes a deep breath and asks:

"Were you serious when you said you'd be my boyfriend to piss off my folks?"

Mark raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. "I wasn't, but if you want to, I'm game."

"Wait, really? That's— that's great. So, I _really_ want to do that."

Jeno nods, and Mark looks at him in expectation, and he panics. He didn't know he'd get this far — he expected Mark to simply not agree. "I'll pay, obviously," he adds, and Mark scoffs.

"I'm not going to let you do that."

"Well, think of it as—" Jeno scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "Look, you seriously don't know what you're signing up for. It's going to be a shitshow. Let me pay you somehow. Think of it as a one-man play or something."

Mark purses his lips. His twenty minutes are apparently much shorter than that, as a girl with bright purple hair comes close to tap him on the shoulder and say that he should be in room 2 to say hello to the public of the first open rehearsal of the day, and he nods and thanks her and looks at Jeno once more. "I have to go now, but I'm in," he says, and then points at the bar with his thumb. "Ask Johnny there for my number. I’m shit at answering calls, but text whenever you want. I'm quite busy at work hours but I'll reply as soon as I can."

Jeno nods, and begins to thank him but Mark is already rushing off, muttering his goodbyes a bit goofily and much different from usual, the tips of his ears a bright red. But then again, what does Jeno know? He watches as Mark disappears in a corridor and suddenly the realization hits him.

He has a fake boyfriend. Oh, this is going to be the magnum opus between all stunts Jeno has ever pulled off, and he just can't _wait._

.

you // 19:34

hi this is jeno

^____^

mark lee // 21:04

Hello

Sorry for the delay, kid's dinner/bath/sleep time around here

What's up

you // 21:05

oh it's alright

so, how is this gonna work?

you // 21:06

i never fake dated someone before lol

mark lee // 21:07

Hm

Ok so how about you write down all that I need to know about you/your family

And I do the same so we'll know what to say whenever

I feel like we're doing roleplaying fanfiction it's insane

you // 21:08

like what now?

mark lee // 21:09

Nvm let's just meet for lunch to trade information bc I don't trust phones

Oh and you tell me when you're planning to have The Dinner™ because I have to clear my agenda @ work or possibly call a babysitter lol

you // 21:08

alright, sounds good!!

hmmm maybe we should wait a little bit for the dinner itself?

you know because the whole dating thing

people take a while to introduce boyfriends to their parents right?

mark lee // 21:10

Never been introduced as the boyfriend, jeno? ;)

you // 21:11

make fun of me all you want but no!!

sadly bc i've been told i'm a catch

mark lee // 21:12

I'm just messing with you, dw

I have never either

you // 21:12

haha lol

mark lee // 21:15

Alllllright duty calls around here

Text me whenever ok

Gnight :)

You // 21:16

good night!! ^__^

.

Pulling the phone from his hands, Jaemin coos: "You're adorable, Jeno. You sound just like a highschooler talking to their crush through Facebook for the first time."

The loft is all set, no more moving boxes thrown in the corners, all plants are watered, they've already debuted the stove with a kimchi jjigae to die for that Jeno's grandmother taught him, and he throws Jaemin off the scandalously red retro sofa with one good kick and no ceremony. "I don't like your tone," he pouts. "I always text like that."

Cackling from the floor, Jaemin hands the phone back. "No, you don't, but it's fine. I can't wait to see how this story unfolds."

.

**Name:** Minhyung/Mark Lee

 **Age:** 21

 **Birth date:** 02/08/1999

 **Nickname:** No one calls me anything but my mother calls me "Minhyung" when she's either affectionate or really mad. ~~And my son started calling me "dada" recently and it makes me soft~~

**About me:** Only child, born in Canada, college dropout (Performing Arts) but I have worked at the theatre since I was 16. Lived in New York and São Paulo briefly before moving here at age thirteen. I'm a bisexual trans man and I've been officialy on T for two and a half years, and I'm out of the closet for six. I have a 3 year old son named Jiho. ~~It feels so silly to write all of this down~~. Our story is that I was very dumb, got dumped, always had a very supportive mom and now spend my nights explaining to a child why he can't shove his entire head in the toilet because “it’s funny”. Don't regret it though, he's all that matters to me. I've been told we share a smile. I am a big fan of Frank Ocean and Sik-K. I don't know how to swim and I'm allergic to peanuts. I love eating fruit but especially watermelon. My best friends are Lucas Wong (22, scenographer) and Dejun Xiao (21, audio engineer), and Lucas is Jiho's godfather. I won't be voting for your brother in the next election because he's obviously a centrist, his program sucks ass and I think he smiles like a sociopath, but I truly think he can be better than this someday if he puts some effort into it. I am a Leo sun, Aries moon, don't know the rest. I hate the sound people make when they scrunch napkins. I hate talking on the phone. I was class president all my life. I think mint chocolate ice cream is the worst thing to ever happen to this planet after capitalism. I've never been to Italy but always wanted to go, specifically to Rome even if it's kind of lame to want that. I cry when I listen to music sometimes. I agreed on fake dating you because you look like a dork.

 **Additional notes:** You're not allowed to call me "Minhyung" under any circumstance and I won't kiss you on the mouth unless strictly necessary, but any other form of PDA is a-okay. We are not telling my kid that we're dating or fake dating. If you ask me about "The Surgery" or any intrusive shit about being trans I will kick you in the balls so hard you'll be spitting them out two hours later. I can fake any accent ever. I can speak English, Korean, a bit of Spanish, a bit of Portuguese, and a very broken Catalan. ~~I also know how to hit all major arteries~~

 **OBS:** I've taken the liberty to make up our story. We met at a cocktail reception after my company's rendition of Elektra last December. Jaemin brought you as his plus-one. I thought you were charming, we talked for a while, you asked for my number. Started seeing each other mid-May, we're taking things slow. Our first date was in a gay bar because it'll be easier to pull off. If anyone seems suspicious that our lifestyles crash, opposites attract.

Memorize all of this and then burn the paper. ~~Well, you don't actually need to I simply always wanted to say this~~

13/06/2021. — Mark

.

"I'm seeing someone," Jeno announces over dinner, as if he's asking for someone to pass the salt. "He is a great person. We're going on a date tomorrow."

His mother lets out a surprised "Oh!" at the same time that Doyoung's wife, Jieun, smiles at him — Jeno supposes that she’ll be around more now that they’re not in a long-distance relationship anymore, and she has no idea, truly, what these words mean coming from him, and Jeno intends to keep it that way —, while Doyoung himself raises his eyebrows, slowly chewing his food. Jeno turns to his stepfather with a little innocent smile, but is met with no other than raised eyebrows as well, but barely a millimeter.

Shit. He expected something funnier, something more dramatic. Jeno thought it was funnier when Doyoung hadn't educated him on gay people. Jeno then uses his hand to bring the lam carré to his mouth and takes a messy bite, and that's when his stepfather rolls his eyes, disgusted. Bingo! He can accept gay men but draws the line at not having table manners.

"That's great to hear!" his mother says. Her eyes are shining, she doesn't even care about his bad manners. Jeno suddenly pities the fact that she'll, hopefully, detest Mark — she's _so_ happy. So happy for him. Ugh. "What is his name?"

"Do we know him?" Doyoung intervenes. "Where did you meet?"

Jeno forces himself to let out an embarrassed giggle, which only makes his mother look more delighted. "His name is Mark and, no, you don't know him. He's… What can I say?" he taps his chin with a finger for emphasis. They're going to eat this shit up, and he can't believe it. "He's peculiar. Brilliant. And gorgeous. He's an assistant director. We're taking things slow, but I really wanted to share this with you guys. It's important to me."

His mother is _so_ happy. She reaches out to squeeze his hand across the table. "I'm glad you did, son."

Jeno smiles at her, and at Jieun, and even at his stepfather once more — two times too many, they'll both have nightmares tonight because of it —, but when he turns to Doyoung, he's met with a questioning look.

"You really wanted to share," he repeats. "Well, that's new, Jeno."

Jeno fights the urge to kick him under the table. This is _not_ the time for Doyoung to suddenly decide he knows a thing or two about Jeno's personality, enough to call him out for his bullshit when he's _perfected_ this scene in the mirror, terrified that it'd go wrong. While this is not in the script, Jeno is well prepared, since he's friends with the one and only Jaemin Na, so he juts out his bottom lip.

"Well," he starts, squeezing his mother's hand as he looks directly at her and into her eyes. "It's just that I am so happy about meeting someone new. I know I don't always talk—" a pause for drama, he looks at Doyoung with well practiced puppy eyes. Doyoung raises an eyebrow like he believes he can see right through him, but Jeno _knows_ he can't. "—About this kind of thing, but you're my _family_ after all, right? You're all that I have at the end of the day." And for a great finale, he pretends to wipe off a tear. "Sorry, you guys, I'm being a sap. It's just that I feel like Mark is _the one_ , you know?"

That makes do. His mother coos and even his stepfather's expression softens, which is definitely going to give Jeno nightmares, and when Jieun smiles at Doyoung across the table, he nods at Jeno's words and goes back to his food without commenting any further.

Later on, when Jeno's brushing his teeth, ready for sleep, his mother appears by the doorstep of his room and smiles fondly at him, like she's deciding what flowers she'll choose for their wedding since she _will_ plan it, and Jeno is really proud of his acting abilities. He should tell Mark he's got real competition.

"You know, I'm really happy for you," she says. Her short hair is rather longish now, reminds Jeno of how she looked when they were both much younger, and the whole thing suddenly is too much for him, so he looks away.

One thing is lying to a man you care nothing about. Another thing is lying to your mom. Jeno spits the toothpaste down the sink. "I am too, mom," he replies, still not looking, and half-expects that she'll leave him alone but it's his mom we're talking about, the one and only Sooyeon Lee, so she won't back up from this so easily. He adds, more honestly than ever: "I just don't want to fuck it up, you know?"

She brings a hand to rub at his shoulder, looking at him through the mirror as he wipes his face with a hand towel. "I'm sure you won't, darling," she responds, and then smiles suggestively. "I would really like to meet your special someone, when you're ready."

B-i-n-g-o. Jeno tries his best to keep his cool and turns to look at her with an horrified expression. "Mom, we just started seeing each other. I can't bring him to the lion's den so soon."

His mother laughs, patting him on the face. "I said I'd like to meet him, but I didn't say _when_. I respect your time, Jeno, since you never brought someone home before. It was only a comment. As I said, I'm ready whenever you are."

Still, it's a success. It's late already and she wishes him a goodnight with a kiss to his forehead, and as soon as he's left alone, Jeno gives in to the temptation and pulls out his phone to write _i'm honestly such a great actor how about you give me a job_ in his private chat with Mark, and presses send with no regret.

.

Well, scratch that. Jeno has no idea how to fake date someone.

Sure, sure, he's dated before. Briefly, nothing that makes him wish it was still a thing, no one he had ever brought home to introduce to his mother, but he's dated before. Three people. Well, _two_ people because he doesn't know if Heejin Jeon counts, because he met her in summer camp for children of politicians and ambassadors, they were eleven and sloppily kissing in that garden where everyone would have lunch at, for about three weeks before they realized that nope, not happening, too weird, and sometimes Jeno shares on his Facebook all that there is to be shared about her all-girl band. He wishes that they had remained close friends over the years, despite the distance. Great WLW/MLM solidarity, he thinks. The next time he goes to Seoul, he’ll pay her a visit

And there was, well, Eric. His mother worked for Doyoung’s father. He doesn't know if that was actually dating, either. They did a lot of pot, and they made out a lot in the boarding school's boys bathroom, and in broom closets, and in Place des Vosges when they went back to the city, and in Eric's twin bed, and Jeno's own bed when no one was home, but they've broken up before Jeno could officially invite him to homecoming. He went with a boy named Elias. Well, he third-wheeled Elias and his date, but they didn't mind. Or that's just how Jeno likes to put it. Alright, alright, maybe Eric _was_ his first boyfriend after all. A good one. If Jeno's not mistaken, he moved back to South Korea and actually been scouted by an idol company after suddenly realizing he wanted to make music instead of following his mother’s steps — well, that's what Jeno’s pen pal, Han Jisung, told him, as they're mutual friends on Facebook, Jeno doesn't know if he's bullshitting or not —, and Jeno will have the privilege of knowing that he kissed Eric Sohn first. Good for him!

All of this once resulted in Jaemin stalking both of them on Facebook and telling Jeno, straight-faced: _it's honestly very weird that you only dated people that look exactly like you. Makes me worry, makes me wonder._ Jeno ignored them.

And, finally, _finally_ there was this Tinder date that evolved to two or three dates and Jeno losing his V-card at the tender age of eighteen in the backseat of a Ferrari. He hopes he'll _never_ see Jung Jaehyun — again, son of another worker at the embassy, and at this point Jeno was doing it on purpose to piss off his stepfather — in his life again because Jeno is not exactly proud of his performance, he got a lot better with many other Tinder dates later, and also because he sort of/maybe/possibly ghosted Jaehyun out of panic. Sometimes, when Jeno thinks of that, he wants to put his head through a glass window. He avoids driving around Jaehyun's neighborhood now.

So, yeah, he doesn't know how to date. He only knows how to do it casually. Therefore, when he meets with Mark for their oficial first fake date at the Jardin des Plantes, he feels like throwing up.

"You look tense," Mark tells him as he munches on his cotton candy. "Where did that great actor go, I wonder..."

"It's the guy with the camera," he mutters, trying not to move his lips that much. "My mom is crazy, I told you. She's nuts. I hate the guys with the cameras.”

Mark laughs as if he's just been told the funniest thing, and Jeno uses that opportunity to look over his shoulder and spot the same photographer from earlier when they met at the entrance. He knew his mother would casually slip it to the press, and Jeno _was_ prepared for it, he's been around cameras his entire life especially when he made it his purpose to be a menace, but it's weird to have to act like a normal guy. It's like his whole persona is _crumbling_ before his own eyes. Jeno swallows dry.

"C'mon, don't be shy," Mark points at a little sign on the ground, in the middle of other plants, that says Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow plant. "Look at what this one's called, it's from South America. Why did you choose a botanical garden, again?"

Jeno googled _cool places to go on dates_ and decided on the first one. "I like plants, they're all so—" he motions vaguely to the space around them. "Plant-y. Very green. I like green. What's your favorite color?"

Mark offers him some cotton candy, and he shakes his head negatively, and then he replies: "Red. Yours?"

"Black."

"That's boring."

"I'm boring, and black is all I wear."

Sizing him up, Mark says: "Not true. You're wearing blue today, and it suits you well."

Jeno nods, a bit embarrassed — he _wanted_ to find something more colorful for a day out. A blue tee he's found in the deepest parts of his closet, probably Doyoung's at some point. "It's what I _usually_ wear, that is."

Humming in agreement, Mark resumes his walking. He walks like he's always caffeinated, and Jeno struggles to keep up, but he's been slowing himself down for the sake of their first fake date. He is, unsurprisingly, looking good as ever, his button-up tucked inside his pants with a few buttons open. Jeno's been shamelessly staring at his chest from time to time for quite a while, and then reprimands himself every time he notices. Fuck.

"Sooooo," he says as they're walking past a bunch of teenagers in very colorful clothing. "Those tattoos of yours?"

Mark lets out a surprised "Oh!", looking down at his biceps as if he's only noticed them now. Since Jeno is, well, Jeno, he's been staring at them ever since they met at the metro station — he particularly likes the spiderweb on Mark's elbow, and watches at the other runs the tip of his finger over one of the tattoos and raises his arm for Jeno to take a better look. "This one I got done a few weeks ago," he replies, quite proud of himself. It is, essentially, a scribble. Jeno is not very imaginative. "Jiho has always liked drawing. He said it's a self portrait, or, in his words, a paper face."

Oh, so it makes sense after all. He supposes he can see a little face. "That's, like, really fucking cute."

"Why, thank you. I hope he becomes an artist in the future, because I, personally, suck at drawing."

Jeno is weirdly touched by it, watching as Mark smiles fondly at the tattoo before letting his arm drop to his side. Sometimes people go out there and they get tattoos about their children. It's a thing that happens. Jeno has to look away.

As they reach another part of the garden, Mark bumps his arm against his and mutters quietly: "I think we're boring the guy out. Hold my hand at some point, okay?"

Right. Right. They're actually doing this. Jeno gently brushes his hand against his as they walk past a large group of tourists, and Mark interlocks their fingers in one swift motion.

And then Jeno stops, lets go of Mark's hand, and takes it again this time with his own hand on the front. "I hate it when it's the other way around," he whispers. "It's uncomfortable for me."

Mark looks at him with the most neutral expression ever for a while, and Jeno is suddenly scared that he's fucked up, but then Mark throws his hand back in laughter, startling the group of tourists.

"Oh, my God," he says, inhaling deeply as he recomposes himself. He gives Jeno's hand a light squeeze. "You're so weird. I hope the guy caught this on camera."

Right. Right. On camera. It's for show, Jeno reminds himself. He lets out a chuckle and guides them closer to a full garden of some flowers he knows Jaemin has in his loft only to casually snap a picture of it for him. Normal. He's being normal. Just an average dude dating another average dude.

Nah. Mark's not average. He feeds Jeno the very last bit of his cotton candy and there will be a trillion articles tomorrow talking about Jeno's love life, and while he's never 100% comfortable with all the exposure, he knows this is what he signed up for.

.

"Soooooooo? How was your date?"

Jeno is sure that he's not really supposed to be here right now, but Jaemin hasn't kicked him out yet, so he cracks open a beer and leans against the counter in the kitchen. "Well, it was nice. I hope it was convincing."

On the other side of the loft, Lucas discreetly tries to look for his pants without traumatizing Jeno that much, and the latter conveniently stares at the fridge as he talks. "I mean, of course there were people talking shit, because homophobes everywhere, but at least it became… More real? And they keep talking about it, you know, my family. It's kind of bizarre. I get up to have breakfast and my mom asks me about my _boyfriend._ I never had this before."

"Does she?" Jaemin asks. They're pantless as well but at least decent, wearing a shirt that Jeno has never seen before, spinning around in one of the tall stools. They stop and make grabby hands at Jeno's beer, and he lets them take a sip. "I wish I was there to see. You have to invite me next time."

Jeno shakes his head negatively. Lucas has found his pants, and he's now sitting with them. They both look wrecked. Jeno is mentally high fiving Jaemin. "My mom is all emotional because I've never mentioned any—" he cringes at the words. " _Special someone,_ I don't know, she's all about using gender neutral terms. It's half endearing and half homophobic, I guess."

"Oh, come on, I think she's being cute. Your mom's an angel."

Jeno shrugs. "I don't know what goes on in her head. Parents are so weird."

Letting out a snort, Lucas reaches for three of the fruit in the basket Jaemin keeps at the island of the kitchen and starts juggling them. "I, for one, really want to be a father. I didn't before but I do now, because Jiho charmed me into wanting to have _at least_ three kids."

When Jaemin bats their eyes at him dreamily, Jeno has to bite back a laugh.

"Although—" Lucas continues. "Mark is always on about how people get baby fever but are not prepared to have kids. He says Jiho is three kids in one at the same time."

Jeno hums as Jaemin nudges him on the ribs. "He's an angel, though. Jiho, I mean."

"Yeah, because you only see the nice parts," Lucas replies, shrugging. He puts the fruit back, and Jeno pouts because he was entertained. "I'd die for him, though, any time. Best. Boy. Ever. But does he give everyone headaches sometimes. When he cries, oh my God. He’s the loudest kid on this city, of course, because he’s Mark’s son.”

As Jaemin coos, Jeno's curiosity is getting the best of him. He chugs the rest of his beer in one go and asks: "Sooooo… Mark’s son, huh?"

The other two share a look, and Lucas turns back at him with the proudest smile. "He's great, you're going to love him if you meet. He's this little but, like, very mature for his age. He started talking so soon, which is unsurprising because Mark himself never shuts up, and he’s already learning how to read."

"And he's the cutest that ever existed," Jaemin makes a gesture like squeezing the sides of their face. "Those _cheeks,_ I swear to God _._ He's simply round. Makes you want to bite him."

Jeno lets out a non-committal grunt. Although he's seen pictures of the kid before, it's a lot different now. He wonders if Mark will actually introduce them. Maybe not. Why would he, Jeno thinks. He gets another beer.

.

you // 08:02

so uh

date tomorrow??

mark lee // 08:09

Good morning Jeno

I can't, day off = Jiho day

Why are you up so early anyway

you // 08:10

oh that's cool have fun

lol

i have class

why are /you/ up so early

mark lee // 08:11

I have a child, I didn't even go to sleep

You // 08:12

oh

shit????

mark lee // 08:14

I'm free to hang out thursday after lunch though

:^)

How many dates until The Dinner™

you // 08:20

i'm thinking second next weekend if you're free

do you think we have to immediately break up after that

mark lee // 09:33

Srry fell asleep after i took him to daycare now i'm late

Lol

Why, you like being my fake posh bf or smth

You // 09:34

IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL ME

FAKE POSH BF?

mark lee // 09:37

Yeah why

You // 09:38

because… i call you my fake alt bf

mark lee // 09:40

You just made that up weirdo

Lolololol

But speaking business think a week or two after Dinner™ should be enough

Let's meet for lunch bye

.

"Hey," Jeno leans over his desk and reaches out to poke at Jaemin's back, and they turn around with the sleepiest expression ever. This photography elective that they share is always the most boring. Jeno raises his phone. "Wanna see me swallow this thing?"

Jaemin snorts, flicking an eye booger in his direction. "That's what she said—"

.

They meet twice after that.

Going to the movies is nice, in Mark's words, because they don't have to pretend in the dark, but he throws his arm around Jeno's shoulders as soon as they step into the daylight. It's summer but it's cooler at night, and Jeno's noticed Mark has a ton of light shirts to throw over his clothes and it's a blue and white striped one this time, it makes him look so beautiful, and he shrugs off it and drapes it over Jeno's shoulders instead when they part ways at the metro station. Jeno can see the pictures on the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes, the shirt staring at him from where he's gently folded and draped it over the back of his chair. He didn't think he'd get this flustered while pretending to date someone; Mark is really just that good.

Then it's dinner at a Viet place on a street behind the Paris Opera a few days later. Jeno usually prefers cooking rather than eating out, but since it's for show, he even puts it on his Instagram story. It's such a small restaurant that there’s only four tables and Mark's hair is thrown to the side for once and he tells Jeno about his kid and it feels like they're friends, like they're becoming friends and it's nice because Jeno doesn't have a lot of those and Mark does, so he feels glad to be included somehow. Jeno spends the majority of dinner laughing against his fist because he doesn't want to bother the other clients but Mark is funny, he's honestly so cool, Jeno doesn't know what to do with himself.

"But the thing about having a kid when you're so young is that—" Mark snorts. He's spilled sparkling water on himself during a fit of laughter minutes before and is still trying to dry his shirt with a napkin. "I don't fucking know what to do most of the time. If I didn't have like, my mom and my friends, I have no idea what would happen. Like, that, _and_ being trans? A shitshow. I'm glad that part is over, at least.."

Jeno scrapes the last remnants of his dish. The watch on his wrist tells him he should go home and hand in an essay as soon as possible, but he only nods and says: "I can't even imagine. Like, truly, can't even imagine it. I'm kind of awful with kids, I have some younger cousins that are a different species in my eyes."

"How much younger, though?"

Jeno shrugs. He knows Donghyuck and Taeyong got two baby siblings at some point in their childhood, but it's not like he has much contact nowadays. They look bigger in every picture he sees on Facebook. "Don't know. I think the twins are, like, 08' liners.”

"That's a whole decade older than Jiho," Mark laughs. "Toddlers are different from grown kids, though. Well, he’s not a toddler anymore, but you get it. He can be very calm sometimes, but other days he's like a lightning bolt. It varies. Just like adults, actually, but I think it's easier to pinpoint mood swings in a child because they haven’t learned how to hide it yet."

He stays silent for a moment, and then asks: "Why don't you come meet him? It's too hot these days to go out with him, but you could, I don't know, come over. We'll order a pizza, Lucas is always there and by extension Jaemin is too… Don't know, just an idea. You could meet my other friend, Dejun. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"But I want to," Jeno replies, a bit too enthusiastic for his liking, but the did is done. "I mean, I'd like to. It'd be nice."

Mark smiles. "Consider it an invitation, then. I’ll send you the address, it’s near Gare Montparnasse."

Nodding, Jeno looks down at his own joined hands on top of the table. He has a habit of biting on his nails, so it's a little ugly to look at to be honest, he quickly retreats his hands to his lap where Mark can't see. It's only after an awful long period of silence that Mark clears his throat: "Can I ask you something?"

Jeno nods.

"What's the deal with your family? Like, why do you want to piss them off so bad? Looking from afar, you all kind of look like the perfect French-Korean family."

Tilting his head from side to side, Jeno ponders whether or not he's ready to overshare with someone he's met not that long ago. He doesn't want Mark to pity him or something like that, but figures that it would be better to clear things up since he's helping him out in the first place.

"It's just— my mom married this guy when I was about nine, right," he motions vaguely with a hand. "And I'll admit that I wasn't really happy about it. I just didn't want things to change, I suppose, because what child does, right?" Mark nods. He goes on: "But as the years passed I understood less and less why she married him in the first place. He's awful. He's that kind of guy that is passive-aggressive to the point it makes you sick, he's manipulative, he makes you feel stupid for saying anything. He's really just two-faced, I guess. He's nice to her and to his son, but he's an asshole to me."

Mark grimaces. "And your mom's thoughts about it?"

Jeno shrugs. "I don't think she's in it for love, you know. I think it's more about… Maybe, possibly he was an okay guy once upon a time, and they built something together and she's in it for the sake of having something that is hers too, I guess. She loves Doyoung to death, though, as if she's his own mother. I think it's too much to let go."

"Well, she already had something that was hers, right? She had you."

Scratching his cheek, Jeno shrugs once more. "I guess."

"You _guess_?"

"I don't think my mom likes me, that much" he replies, and when Mark frowns at him, he explains: "She loves me because I am her son, but I don't think she likes me as a person. I often feel like she makes an effort to like me. Doyoung too, for that matter. He doesn't like me very much, because I’m…” he swallows dry. “I’m difficult. I’m a difficult person to be around.”

The look that Mark gives him is the same as that of every school counselor Jeno has seen through high school, so he seizes the opportunity to look away and gesture for the waiter to get the bill.

"Jeno, that's— that's a really sad thing for someone to say," he responds quietly. "I'm… I don't even know what to say, actually. I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Jeno chuckles. "You don't have to say anything. Well, finally, I find joy in pissing off my stepfather because he's always been an ass to me, so it's payback to everything he ever made me feel. That's the answer to your question."

Still seeming very preoccupied, Mark leans forward on the table to whisper: "Has he ever— God, I hate to ask this."

He raises his eyebrows suggestively. Jeno frowns, and then shakes his head: "What? Hit me or anything? Nah. I guess he's more about having everyone under his thumb and if you're not, he'll talk shit until you stop wanting to exist near him. He goes for the head, he won’t even need to touch you."

Mark is _still_ staring. Jeno takes the last sip of his Diet Coke and pretends to be interested in one of the plants near their table.

"Alright," Mark announces after a while. "I was already pretty excited to mess with rich people, but I'll make sure to go for his head too. And I will buy you dessert today, anything you want. Seriously.”

The laugh that Jeno lets out is his most genuine one from the past few months.

.

Jeno detaches his cheek from the steering wheel when a hand knocks on his car's window, and he shamefully stares at Doyoung through the glass, without opening the door. He’s got his keys back, finally! But he feels awful.

"What are you doing?" they both ask at the same time, Doyoung's words muted. Jeno has actually no idea why he spends so much time at this house now that he's married — maybe he's afraid Jeno's mother will have empty nest syndrome even though Jeno is right here. Might be it. Jeno himself doesn’t believe he exists most of the time, he might as well be a ghost. "No, what are _you_ doing?"

Doyoung rolls his eyes, knocking on the window insistently once more before crossing his arms, and Jeno opens the door reluctantly.

"Is everything alright?" Doyoung asks. When Jeno takes a look at the watch on the console, he realizes it's late already — then again, no idea why Doyoung is here. "Did you and Mark fight? Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?" he frowns. "No. I—" Jeno shakes his head, "Are _you_ doing alright? Why are you here?"

Doyoung lets out a non-committal grunt, stepping away when Jeno gets out of the car, and they stare at each other for a long time before he replies: "We came to have dinner. You weren't there."

"I had a date."

"Did it go well?"

"Yes."

"Then, why are you sad?"

Jeno scoffs, turning around to close the car door and lock it. "I'm not sad, Doyoung, this is my face. I always look like this, you should get used to it already."

"No, you don't," Doyoung insists. He follows Jeno out of the garage and through the door that leads to the kitchen, patiently turning off every light switch that Jeno turns on. "If you want to talk, I'm always here to listen to you."

Of all things, Jeno does not want Doyoung to be there to listen to him. He sighs as he opens the fridge, takes out a bottle of orange juice and motions to drink straight from it, but Doyoung takes it from his hands and finds a glass for him.

Then Doyoung widens eyes at him, in expectation, and Jeno gapes at him with an equally surprised expression. "Thank you for the juice, Doyoung," he says, and his older brother rolls his eyes, turning around to step away from the kitchen.

"Goodnight, Jeno."

"Goodnight," he grunts, taking one big sip from his juice. He can hear a faint conversation coming from the living room, and as Jeno washes his used glass on the sink, he opts to go through his room through the service stairs. He's simply not in the mood to face the rest of his perfect family right now.

God, _why_ did he have to have such a loose mouth? Does he not know how to shut up, ever? Jeno sighs deeply as he heads to his room, tugging at his hair with both hands out of frustration. Did he really lay his heart bare for Mark to take a look at? He must have sounded _so_ whiny, no one wants to listen to anyone complaining about their family.

Jeno grimaces as he kicks his shoes off, not bothering where they'll land, and spends a whole ten minutes leaning back on his door and pondering about what he just did. There's no stepping back from the mortifying ordeal of being known, he just hopes that Mark won't think he's a moron. In good French, an _imbécile_.

As if by fate, his phone vibrates in his back pocket, and Jeno pulls it out to watch as Jaemin floods their chat with questions. _how is your fake relationship going, you know what i think you're really cute together, blah blah blah_. He sighs, totally not in the mood to deal with it, and throws his phone on top of the bed, not bothering when it bounces off the mattress and onto the floor.

.

The jacket couldn't be freer of wrinkles, but Jeno still spends a solid five minutes trying to smooth down the fabric over his chest, still very much seated in his car. It's been a recurring thing these days. Jeno then leans against the window to take a look at the building, at the two stories at the top. He's been told Lucas and his roommate live in the penthouse, and Mark right under.

There are about a billion messages from Jaemin popping constantly on their chat, and Jeno looks down at the phone on his lap. _where are u!!!! don't be a crybaby_ and _i hope you know you can't drink if you're driving so i bought organic juice just for u_ and thousands of selfies they took with Lucas, some of them kind of gross to be honest. Jeno doesn't know how Lucas keeps up. He takes a deep breath, texts the family group chat (in 2021, really?) that he's at Mark's, is met with a heart emoji from his mother and an "ok?" from Doyoung, then opens the door and gets out.

"Hiiiiii!" Jaemin exclaims as he opens the door, throwing their arms around Jeno's neck and squeezing tight. They're wearing a ridiculous shark beanie, and Jeno frowns as he pats their back lightly. "Why are you always late to everything, Jeno Lee? You weren't like this,"

"I'm not _that_ late," he protests as Jaemin lets go. "The traffic was awful, you can't blame me."

Rolling their eyes, Jaemin adjusts the beanie in their head and starts pulling at his sleeve. "Alright, c'mon, let's do this."

Lucas' roommate, Jeno finds out, is none other than Mark's second best friend, a bright eyed, blonde guy named Dejun who greets Jeno with a dudebro handshake before he goes back to the task of cutting carrots in really tiny pieces. As for Lucas, he's delighted to see Jeno, engulfs him in a hug and starts talking about how cool Jeno would look with, say, pink hair, if he'd let Lucas dye it for him pretty please. Maybe he and Jaemin are meant for each other, and Jeno shakes his head negatively: "Yeah, no, thank you. Maybe another time, alright? Maybe something other than pink."

Lucas pouts, reaching out to steal a carrot from the bowl, but Dejun slaps his hand away. "Stop fucking eating the baby food, where are your manners. God, in front of the guest..."

"What's up with everyone rejecting me today?" Lucas sighs, crossing his arms as he leans back on his chair, but then gets up and motions for Jeno to sit down. "Dude, by all means. Do you want to drink something, beer, juice, water perhaps?"

Jeno sits down at the end of the table. "Water is fine," and then, very, very timidly asks: "Where's Mark?

"Oh, he's giving Jiho a bath," Lucas replies, handing him a glass. "Actually, I'll go see if he needs some help. We'll be back in a minute."

As he excuses himself and disappears through a corridor, Jeno scans the place with his eyes. It's not the biggest apartment in the world and the kitchen is very crowded with just the three of them, but it looks cozier and has more personality than Jeno's own room — not that it would be too difficult, he thinks —, with many scene props hanging from the brick walls, a leather couch and some comfortable-looking chairs. There are, obviously, many toys thrown here and there, a half-full box near the TV. A couple of vinyls on a bookcase, some plants too. None of it at a child's arm reach. Jeno giggles.

"It's cool, huh?" Dejun asks him. He's finished with the carrots and is now cutting celery. "Have you looked up, though?"

Frowning, Jeno looks up at the ceiling. Once painted white, it's filled from end to end with drawings, random splashes of color, some things written here and there. Jeno doesn't know how he didn't notice before, but it's all he can look at right now. His curiosity gets the best of him and he gets up from the chair, starts walking around the living room to take a better look.

Once more, he gets that feeling as if he's intruding on something. There are big words on Mark's ceiling that tell him _you who suffer because you love, love more than ever. To die of love is to live by it,_ and Jeno feels as if he's just walked into a crime scene or a moment of extreme intimacy, and maybe there's no difference at all between those two things. He takes a step back and feels something digging into the sole of his foot. " _Merde—_ "

"I see you're having a lot of fun already, aren't you?"

Jeno almost loses his balance as he detaches the toy from his socked foot, looking up only to find Mark staring amusedly at him, as if he's very entertained by Jeno's suffering. And then, his gaze trails down only to find another pair of eyes staring at him in curiosity.

"Oh," he exclaims. "So this is—?"

Mark chuckles as he brushes the hair off the baby's face, holding him to his hip with an arm. "Son, this is Jeno," he says. "He is dad's friend. What do we say when we meet a new friend?"

The baby— well, not a _baby_ baby, not even a toddler anymore, but he's so small. Jeno's appalled. It's been a while since he's last seen a three year old, but he's sure they aren't supposed to be this small. Or maybe he has no idea what a child looks like. His eyes are _this_ big, very much like Mark's, and he takes one tiny little hand off his mouth to say: "Hi, I'm Jiho," he makes a three with his fingers. "I am three years old!"

He didn't know they _talked_ at that age either, and despite being warned before, it's still shocking. "Hello, there," he replies, and Jaemin coos in the kitchen because they're probably recording this on an Instagram story, but Jeno can't look right now. "I'm Jeno. I'm twenty one."

Jiho, then, shows him a solid mini hang loose before he turns and presses his little face to Mark's neck. The latter smiles cheekily at Jeno. "I taught him how to do that, he's killing it," he says very proudly. "So, you actually came! That's nice."'

Nodding, Jeno unceremoniously throws the killer toy inside the box near the TV. "Well, I said I'd come. You have a lovely home. And a lovely son."

Mark clicks his tongue, pointing to the others in the kitchen with his chin. "Please, I hid the messiest parts before you got here. Are you drinking?"

Unsurprisingly, it's a party when they get to the table and the baby practically throws himself off Mark's arms and into Lucas', who coos and messes up his hair and presses loud kisses to his cheeks that make him giggle endlessly. There's this thing about small children, Jeno thinks, that people don't know how to behave around them. It's like a switch in the head that's been turned on, you just have to act like the biggest fool ever. As he sits once more and watches, he's appalled at how the presence of a child can make grown adults talk in funny voices.

He's not going to lie, it's very cute. The vegetables Dejun was cooking earlier have been thrown into the smallest portion of risotto that Jeno has ever seen, and the baby eats it all on his own with the smallest fork in the world as well. He's so—

"Cute, right?" Jaemin whispers as they lean into Jeno's side. "I think he's shy today because you're here.'

Jeno widens his eyes. "I broke the baby?!" he responds, horrified, but it only earns him a loud cackle from Mark, who overheard it, turning around in his seat to look at him.

"It's normal, Jeno," he replies like it's obvious. How is Jeno supposed to know? He doesn't interact with toddlers in his day-to-day life. "You just have to talk to him."

"Talk to him?!" he shakes his head, and leans into Jaemin's side to whisper: "I don't know what babies talk about, Jaemin."

The latter rolls their eyes. "God, it's not difficult, look," they lean across the table and extend a hand to Jiho, who takes it without ceremony and looks up at them. "Hello, my love. I really like your shirt today."

To which Jiho opens a big smile full of tiny little teeth and replies: "Thank you, Nana. I picked it myself!"

The whole table coos. Jeno is still very much puzzled although terribly endeared. He watches amusedly as Jiho plays with Jaemin's fingers for a while before going back to the last bits of his risotto, as he continues to tell Dejun a story that makes absolutely no sense.

"See?" Jaemin asks, nudging him on the ribs. "Not difficult."

Jeno nods, letting out a non-committal grunt. If anything, he's quite endeared by the kid. The resemblance is uncanny, he's got the same mole on the cheek as Mark, his hair is very slightly curly, the big eyes and all. It's very cute. Very, very cute. And it makes Jeno wonder if _he_ resembles his own father, and then he cringes at the thought immediately, earning him a worried look from Lucas on the other side of the table.

When they move to the living room, Mark pats the empty space beside him on the floor and Jeno sits down. It's honestly just like any other friendly get together, except there's a kid that's taking turns trying to talk to everyone, showing off his toys and singing songs on his own, and Jeno is constantly being reminded that he can't swear because Jiho will repeat it, and he feels such great honor when the kid finally decides he trusts him and hands him an elephant plushie, Jeno considers it a personal victory.

"Thank you," Jeno tells him. "You're very cute, did you know that?"

Jiho smiles all happily with the praise, looking over at his dad like he's saying _look at me making friends!,_ and Mark smiles back just as cheerily. "Say thank you, son," he says, and Jiho pats Jeno's shoulder as he says:

"Thanks, you are cute too!" and then he's off to climb Dejun's lap.

Jeno turns over to Jaemin, sitting behind him on the couch. "Saw that? He thinks I'm cute!"

"Whatever," Jaemin replies, clearly bothered by it. "He likes me better for sure, you're a nobody. And you're not even cute, just goofy-looking. So, are we ordering pizza or not, people?"

.

you // 21:45

so dinner tomorrow @ mine

please prepare your most scandalous opinions

mark lee // 21:50

ON IT!

.

Jeno should've known something was wrong when he saw the table prepared for five and Jieun's shoes at the entrance.

He _should've_ known, but he let himself be clueless. He felt that weird sensation tingling the back of his neck and didn't care for it, but it has come to bite him in the ass. "What do you mean," Jeno starts, trying to sound composed. "Seongho is not having dinner with us tonight?"

"Oh, dear, I _know_ this was important for you," his mother replies as she pats his arms sympathetically. "But he had a business trip, it was very last minute. We will all have dinner with you and Mark when he comes back from Seoul, don't worry."

Jeno nods, smiling with his lips closed. He wants to scream. "Ah, it's alright. I just feel as if he would really like meeting Mark, you know? And I wanted all of you to meet him together. It was important that you were—" he inhales a sharp breath. "—together, mom."

His mother's eyes practically gleam, not noticing the desperation in his tone. She's been a lot like this, recently. It must really have felt like a personal miracle for her, the fact that Jeno has a (fake) boyfriend. Maybe she associated him being a menace to him being single, and while it makes Jeno a little bit mad, it really does sound like something she'd do. Sooyeon, Sooyeon. She's like an open book, sometimes. Jeno excuses himself to change into better clothes and spends ten minutes looking at his ceiling, thinking what the hell he is going to do.

Not all is lost, he concludes. Not all is lost. Sure, sure, Mark was supposed to personally target his annoying stepfather, but he might as well leave his mother and Doyoung a bit horrified. They'll tell everything to Seongho either way.

But the shock value of it. _The shock value of it_. Jeno grumpily changes into his most horrendous shirt from college because he might as well piss off Doyoung with his clothing choices, since he's lost the shock value, and since Mark texted him saying he'll be there in five.

"Here's the thing—" he whispers in Mark's ear as soon as he walks through the entrance door and Jeno throws his arms around his neck. He gets a little distracted by Mark's cologne, but he can't possibly think about this now. _Later_. "My stepfather is not here. He's away on a trip, I just found out."

"What?!" Mark whispers back. "This was not on the plan, Jeno."

Jeno leans back and positions himself in front of him, hands on Mark's shoulders. He has about five seconds before his mother, brother and sister-in-law come to the hall to greet him. "I know, but you're an actor, so I need you to find your way around it. Can you do that? Just be yourself, seriously."

He's hearing steps. Jeno raises his eyebrows at him in expectation, and Mark sighs. "Fine. But if they like me—"

"They won't. Trust me. Be despicable.”

Mark scoffs, faux offended. "Oh, alright, then. Now do _your_ part of the job, dear."

Nodding, Jeno turns around. "Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Mark!"

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/prodbybx) | [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/historic) | [dreamwidth](https://antigone.dreamwidth.org/)


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